Through the Lens
by SamuraiWriter
Summary: Brenda, a former war photographer now stricken with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, finds herself in the middle of a government conspiracy after the death of her sister. Now, Brenda is not just fighting for her sanity, but for her life as well.
1. Prologue: Faces

Why, hello there. You have stumbled upon another crack baby from the Writing portion of my brain. This time, it involves the world of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. I've recently gotten interested in Call of Duty, and I've decided to write a story using the characters. I guess this is more like an attempt to get my creative juices flowing. (Haha. Juices...)

The story is called "Through the Lens" and revolves around a new character of mine named Brenda. I was originally thinking about using Sophie Watkins from my story "A New Revolution", but I've decided that Sophie stays with Resident Evil. Brenda's a retired war photographer wrapped up in the death of her CIA agent of a sister, Brionna. Make a possible long summary short, COD characters come in and help, and Brenda goes on an adventure. Yeah...

Anyway, I'm a little nervous about this story. This will be my first Call of Duty story, so I guess I'm kind of a noob. Ah well. Be nice, will ya? I appreciate constructive criticism, but don't be a total bitch or tyrant just because you have different views of how the story should be, or if I spelled someone's name wrong.

I don't own Call of Duty, but that would be hella cool if I did. Enjoy!

Through the Lens

A Call of Duty and OC Story

By SamuraiWriter

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><p><em><span>Prologue: Faces <span>_

If I were still a Christian, I would be down on my knees and begging God to remove the Devil from my body and spirit. If I had high self-esteem, I would be out and about on a cool Saturday night, wearing heels too painful for me to wear, but too cute for me to care. If I had friends, I would be calling them to talk about what he or she was doing, or saying "What's up" to them everytime I passed them in their cubicle. If I still gave a damn about the world, I wouldn't be sitting here down in the dumps, looking for something that I know will never come. But, that was okay. I didn't deserve that something. I didn't deserve one once of it.

I used to be a war photographer. Yes, that's right. I used to go out into war-torn areas and snap pictures of people's sadness. I used to travel to highly dangerous areas just to take a few pictures for the rest of the world to see. I had the opportunity to capture some amazing, yet heart-wrenching moments. Moments that would come back to haunt me for what I had done. I had collected the expressions of the modern warriors; interrupted the recovery of the survivors; disturbed the resting of the deceased. Yes, I was a walking sin. A walking sin with a camera.

I had started my photography career at the age of 24. I am now 29. Yes, I had been a war photographer 5 years. I felt that 5 years was well more than enough for me. In that span of 5 years, I had given the democracy protected world that I take refuge in a taste of life in other countries. 5 years worth of war photographs was more than enough for the rest of the world to see; there were just things out there that others were not meant to see. When I announced my retirement, my other fellow photographers looked at me with a mixture of shock, sadness, and anger. Some were surprised and a bit upset with my departure; others were angry and thought that my leave from the world of photography was far too fast. My boss insisted on calling me a baby, and demanded that I hand over my camera for it to be smashed into bits.

Was my camera smashed? Yes, it was. Right into my boss' face.

Today, I resorted to waking up in the suburban morning with morning breath in my mouth, and coffee on my mind. I needed my morning coffee, as it was the one thing that could get me up and functioning through the morning. I relied on energy drinks and water to get me through the afternoons. In the late nights, I would occassionally break out the Barcadi and have a few shots. It was nothing too serious. Just something to ease the pain of being alone. I was alone in the world, but there were people still among me. People still haunted my life, mocked my life. I needed a way to escape from them, even for a little bit.

...where was the knife? I needed it...no...

I couldn't let them see the scars. It was either live or die for me, nothing in between. That was too risky. I would've had to wear long-sleeved shirts for a long while until the scars had healed. I couldn't cut myself. Not when my mind was already being shredded to bits by the faces of the victims of war. They were the same faces I had snapped, kidnapped, and stuffed into a photograph. The very same faces haunted me in the nighttime, and had scared me into the deep, piercing rays of the morning. There was no escape, I had realized. There was no way for me to rid of these faces. They were there in the mirror in the bathroom, in the rearview window of my car, in the puddles of water that remained after a long, hard rain shower.

I desperately asked these faces for forgiveness, but they never said anything back. They just continued to reenact the various scenes of violence, cruelty, and death that I had become for too familar with.

I had to realize that these faces were not leaving me anytime soon. I had to do something...and suicide was the only option that I could have thought of. I heard of veterans seeking therapy for post-traumatic stress due to their time in the war. However, I was not a veteran. I was a photographer, and it was said that I lived for that kind of energy. Therapy would have been a good option, but money was one thing that I lacked. I could not affored to see a therapist even if I wanted to.

Suicide it was. How will it be? Slitting my wrists? Suicide by hanging? Jumping off of a bridge or a tall building? I had no idea. All I knew was was that I wanted to die.

Those faces couldn't get to me if I died, just like them. That's what I believed. Perhaps it was foolish, or more delusional if anything.

Taking one glance of my smashed camera, I released a small laugh. I didn't know what to do with myself, so I suppose leaving Earth was the proper solution. Killing myself was not just an escape, but it was an apology. An apology to the many faces that I stored, and that now haunt me as rest.

Forgive me, faces. You have made your point.

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><p>There's the end of the prologue. In my opinion, it wasn't that good. I'm sure the summary you saw before opening this story was kind of light-hearted, but there will be light-hearted moments in the story later on. This prologue just reveals a little bit about Brenda and her current state of mind. I may submit a character biography on Brenda later in the story. Don't worry; the real action and storyline starts next entry. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed it. Review please!<p>

Thank you! :)


	2. Changes

Hello, there. Here's the first official chapter of "Through the Lens". I do not own Call of Duty. Enjoy!

Through the Lens

A Call of Duty and OC Story

By SamuraiWriter

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><p><em><span>Chapter 1:Changes<span>_

The sound of an alarm clock killed any dream that Brenda had, and it introduced Brenda to the confines of her bedroom. The early morning sun had already seeped through the cracks of the window blinds. Brenda groaned and forced her eyes to open, wiping away the rheum in her eyes as she turned to read the alarm clock. It was 8:35AM. Brenda sighed and dropped her head back onto her pillow. She stared at her ceiling fan, which was riddled with accumulated dust. Brenda had told herself that she would clean the ceiling fan; that was about one week ago. Letting out another sigh, Brenda raised herself and stepped out of bed, heading towards the bathroom to freshen up and take a shower. After about 20 minutes, Brenda was out of the shower, clean and a semi-new woman. Still, Brenda lacked the proper motivation to start her new day.

Brenda exchanged her sleeping attire for a more professional look. She gathered a black blouse and a matching black skirt from her drawers and gently placed them on her bed. She retrieved stockings from smaller drawer in the corner of her bedroom and placed them next to her selected clothes. Brenda walked to and opened the closet door and pulled out the ironing board. After opening it, she placed it out in the middle of her bedroom floor, grabbed her black blouse, and begin to press it. Between presses, Brenda stole a glance at the clock. It was 9:01AM.

"Where does the time go?" Brenda whispered to herself.

Then, something hit Brenda. She turned towards the clock again; it still read 9:01AM. She blinked, and then directed her attention to her calender. For the month of May, her calender had the picture of recently bloomed flowers scattered along a countryside. Brenda walked up towards the calender and gazed. Every day of the week had been marked with an X expect for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Brenda remembered that she hadn't marked Friday because she was way too exhausted from her work day. That would mean that it was Saturday. Brenda did not work on the weekends. Brenda turned to her laid out clothes and the ironing board. She sighed a third time. "Great..." she muttered.

* * *

><p>"Ma...where are we going?" the small child asked. She had looked at her mother from the back seat of the car, overwhemingly safe by the seat belt. Her black afro puff was pushed against the car seat along with her entire back. The little girl's mother hesitated a little before answering her question. The mother reached a red light and took the opportunity to turn around to her dangerously curious daughter and flash her a smile. The smile had caught the girl off guard, but it was not a false or two-faced smile. It was a smile of reassurment, a smile of love.<p>

"I told you before. You're going to spend some time with Auntie Brenda for a while." she answered.

Yes. Her daughter had remembered when her mother first told her that. She was still disatisfied with the answer, as her mother had not disclosed where SHE would be. That is what truly worried the child, and she constantly demanded to know where her mother was going. "But where are YOU going! You didn't tell me that..." The child's voice began to fade off, as the tone and volume of her voice had surprised herself. Her mother looked at her for another second before answering.

"Ma's going away on a business trip, but she will be back."

The light had turned green, and the mother turned around and continued driving. Her daughter had remained silent for 2 minutes, but her curiousity caused her to blurt out more questions. "How long will you be gone, Ma?" she asked.

"I don't know, Joanne." the mother answered.

"Will it be for a day?"

"No, Joanne. It will definitely not be for just a day."

"What about a week?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Joanne."

"Why not, Ma?"

"Because...I just don't know."

Joanne sat there, puzzled. "You should know. My trips only last a day, Ma. I'm pretty sure it's a day."

Joanne's mother sighed. "Joanne, this trip is not like the trips you take in school. This trip is far more complicated and...it's just..." Joanne did not know how to explain the matters of her business trip to a child, let alone her own daughter. Joanne was oblivious to the life of her mother. To Joanne, her mother was a big-time lawyer working for the "Super Ultra Agency For Lawyers". Joanne would go to school bragging to her friends about her mother's job, and her friends would look and listen with a mixture of awe and jealousy. Joanne made her mother's career sound like a luxorious occupation, when in reality, her job was as cold as ice. Joanne's mother ran a finger through her black, permed hair and made a left turn.

"Let's just drop it, JoJo. Please?"

Joanne ignored her mother's request and asked another question. "Are you going to meet Daddy?"

Joanne almost blanked out after hearing the question. Joanne's father had left two months ago and had only left behind a tearful wife and a kiss on the forehead for Joanne. Problem was, Joanne was unaware that her father had actually walked out on her and her mother, and Joanne's mother wanted to keep it that way. Ever since Joanne's father left, Joanne's mother beaten the idea of her father going on vacation to preserve the innocence and the remaining bit of happiness in Joanne. She knew it wasn't right, but it was the only solution.

Joanne saw the corner of her mother's lips curl up a bit. "Hmm...maybe."

Just the possibilty of seeing her father again had made Joanne bounce in her seat, and her mother hated that. She hated her daughter getting excited over false statements and impossible ideals. It added to the guilt that she had already been feeling. As usual, Joanne's mother hid her guilt with another smile and said, "Excited to see your Auntie Brenda?"

"Yes!" Joanne said with confidence and happiness. Her mother smiled.

"Do you think that she will be happy to see me?" Joanne asked.

Her mother let out a small laugh and another bigger smile. "Of course she'll be happy to see you. She's your Aunt, after all."

* * *

><p>Despite her sister's confience, Brenda was not particularly happy to see her sister and her niece. Not that she didn't love them, but Brenda just was not in the "family get-together" mood. Before Brenda could say anything, her sister had made her and Joann'e way inside her apartment and looked around. "Well. Good morning to you too, Brionna." Brenda said sarcastically.<p>

Brionna turned around and gave her sister a smile. "This place still looks like a shithole. You know that, right?" she said.

"I am aware of that, yes."

"Hi, Auntie Brenda!" Joanne blurted out. She then gave Brenda one of her hardest, lovable smiles she had ever done. No matter the mood, Brenda could not help but let out a small smile at her enthusiasm. "Hello, JoJo." Brenda responded.

"I need to talk to you." Brionna said, her facial expression a serious one. "Alone."

Her dark brown eyes looked down at Joanne, who was focusing on the small orange and white fish in the small fish tank in the dining room. She walked over to her daughter and whispered something in her ear. Judging by Joanne's negative reaction and her pouty lips, Brionna had instructed Brionna to go over to the next door neighbor's apartment until Brionna and Brenda had finished talking. Brenda's next door neighbor was a jolly old lady who had become friendly with both Brionna and Joanne. Brionna flashed Joanne a stern look, and Joanne, filled with defeat, trotted out the apartment and next door. Once both women heard the next door neighbor's door open and close, Brionna turned back to Brenda, who looked confused as ever.

Nonetheless, Brenda motioned over towards the dining room table for them to sit down. Brionna then proceeded to take her own seat, and Brenda sat down in the chair across from Brionna, her morning coffee releasing hot steam into the air above. She took a sip and motioned her coffee towards Brionna, asking if she would have liked some of her own. Brionna declined with a lazy shake of the head. "My body's gonna need more than coffee after what I have to ask you." she joked half-heartedly.

This worried Brenda. She was about to open her mouth, but Brionna had cut her off before Brenda could get one word out. "I need you to look after Joanne while I'm away." Brionna said.

Brenda blinked. "Where are you going?"

"On a mission."

"To do what?"

"Don't worry about that."

"How can I _not _worry about that? You're my sister. I'm worried about whatever you do."

"Are you really worried?"

Brenda's eyes moved to the side. "Yes. Well, I started caring a bit more when you had a crazy mome-"

"**Epiphany**." Brionna corrected, her tone sharp and strong enough to cut through metal.

"Right. Sorry. An epiphany, and decided to dabble in espoinage." Brenda said, a smirk working its way to her face.

Brionna clutched her heart and pretended to be in pain. "Oooh, that cut deep. _Dabble_? I'm a full-fledged CIA operative, thank you very much. I take my job very seriously." she said, sticking her tongue out at Brenda.

"Seriously, Brionna. When are you going to tell Joanne?" Brenda asked, her voice and facial expression holding deep concern.

"About what? My job, or her father?"

"Both."

Brionna winced slightly after Brenda said that. She lowered her head and stared down at the wooden dining room table. She didn't know if she could tell Joanne about everything. Brionna's only fear was that Joanne would find out and hate her for lying to her. Unfortanetly, that fear seemed to be drawing closer with each passing day.

"She will have to know eventually, Brionna..."

"So, will you look after her? I don't how long I will be gone, Brenda. So, just do this for me? Please...I can't leave my baby with anyone else. After her father left, I had to scramble around looking for baby sitters for her until I got back."

"Why didn't you just call me?" Brenda asked.

"Wasn't thinking. Besides, you were kinda going through a cukoo stage of your life, and I couldn't have that around Joanne." Brionna answered.

Brenda rolled her eyes. "I just had some problems. Nothing ser-"

"_Had_?"

A sigh and a topic change. "You seem to be forgetting that I have a job, as well. Who will look after her then?"

"Simple. She will be at school. You will be at work. Joanne gets out of school around the same time you get off of work. It's easy."

"What if I have to work double shifts?"

"Just get like one of the neighbors to watch her."

"What if I..get hit by a bus?"

Brionna snorted, and Brenda let out a chuckle. "Just a little dark humor."

Brionna leaned in a little further, as if she was looking at something in the air. "So, will you do it?"

It didn't seem like Brenda had a choice. If Brenda refused, where was the child suppose to go? It was best that Joanne stayed with someone she knew well and loved, rather than some stranger. Brenda knew that it would be a tiresome task, but the desperation in her sister's eyes carried a persuasive energy that was working its way to Brenda. There was no way out of this favor; there was only one answer.

Brenda nodded. "Yes."

Brionna beamed. She jumped across the table and tackled Brenda into a hug.

* * *

><p>It had been only 5 minutes since Brionna went next door to get Joanne, and she was already back. Brenda had thought that Brionna would have taken more time to explain to Joanne the matter at hand. Brenda walked to the door and opened it, hoping to see Brionna holding a crying, slobbering Joanne. Instead, there was no Brionna and no crying, slobbering Joanne. There was Joanne with a bag in her hand, looking up at Brenda. Brenda looked back at Joanna, and then looked around.<p>

"Where's your mother?" Brenda asked. She asked it as if Joanne was a lost child.

"She left. She kissed me on the cheek and told me that you were going to take care of my until she came back. Is that true, Auntie?" Joanne said. Brenda nodded and stepped aside to let Joanne in. Joanne stepped in and looked around, as if she had never been there before. Joanne turned back to her aunt. "Where do I sleep?"

"I have another bedroom. You can sleep in there." Brenda said. Joanna walked away after hearing those words. There was no laughter, no blush, no smile. There was no happiness anymore.

Suddenly, Joanne stopped, and slowly turned back to Brenda. Brenda just quietly looked back at her until she said something.

"Auntie Brenda?"

"...yes?"

"Is Ma gonna be okay?"

Brenda didn't know the answer to that question, but giving Joanne an unsure answer at a time like this was the last thing she wanted to do. So instead, Brenda smiled and nodded. "Yes. Your mother is going to be just fine. Trust me." she said.

Joanne only stared at her aunt for a few seconds, until she finally gave in and smiled. "Okay." she said. And with that, Joanne turned and walked to the extra bedroom. When Joanne disappeared into the room, Brenda dropped her happy disposition and frowned at the floor. She walked over to the dining room table and sat down. Her shaking fingers grazed through her curly, natural black hair and then collapsed onto the wooden table. Her eyes traveled throughout the apartment and didn't stop until she reached her smashed camera that hung on a shelf. The same camera that marked the end of her career as a war photographer. The same camera that marked the start of nightmares full of faces that have yet to cease. Brenda didn't feel confident having Joanne in her apartment while Brenda was dealing with her fair share of problems. Joanne was now going through a tough situation; life without a mother. Joanne already had a missing father. Her mother leaving would not do good for her psyche. Fortanetly, it was only a temporary leave. Atleast, that's what Brenda hoped.

Brenda took another glance at the camera, and she closed her eyes. She inhaled, exhaled, and reopened her eyes.

"What now, Brenda?"

* * *

><p>Oustide, Brionna wiped the last of her tears as she walked to her car. She suddenly stopped when she saw an unexpected, but familar person leaning against one of the doors of her car. The person gave her a small smile, and Brionna snorted in response. She held her head down for a bit to conceal her smile, and walked over to the person once she had composed herself. "What the hell are you doing here, Allen?"<p>

Joseph Allen let out a chuckle and opened his arms a bit to embrace Brionna. "Just checking up on my girl. Making sure she doesn't pussy out on this assignment." he said in a jocular tone of voice.

Brionna gave him a fake shocked expression. "Me? Pussy out? Please, Allen. Don't compare me to you, okay?"

"Ooh, fiesty. I like that."

"I'm sure you do."

Allen laughed. "Just admit it. You like me too, don't you?"

Brionna looked off to the side before answering. "Eh. You're...starting to grow on me. Anyways, let's go. Can't be late for the meeting."she said.

Allen ignored the last part of the sentence and slipped his arms around Brionna's waist. "Oh really? I'm starting to grow on you?"

Brionna gave him a small nod. "Yeah..."

Allen gave her a slow grin. "Well then, let me grow on you some more." were Allen's last words before he pressed his lips smoothly and gently on Brionna's lips.

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><p>Dear God. I didn't expect the first chapter to end like that. Ah well, what's done is done. I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter of "Through the Lens". Tell me what you think of it.<p>

Thank you!


	3. Eyes

Hello again! Here's Chapter 2 of "Through the Lens". Thank you to all who are reading, and special thanks **VerityA **for the review! I don't own Call of Duty. Enjoy!

Through the Lens

A Call of Duty and OC Story

By SamuraiWriter

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><p><em><span>Chapter 2: Eyes<span>_

Brenda Denise Campbell was born in the winter of 1987 in Bethesda, Maryland to Mary Lewis Jackson and Damian King Campbell. Brenda grew up in a quiet neighborhood that was ruled by the sound of lawn mowers, the droplets of neighbors' sprinklers, and the influence of the power of Christ.

Mary and Damian had three children; out of those 3, Brenda was the youngest child. The oldest was Brian Alexander Campbell, a boy with a fiesty attitude and a heart that belonged to his parents and sisters. He shared some history in his name, as his middle name was taken from his great grandfather, Alexander Campbell, who was a prominent figure in the world of science. Brian graduated from Coppin State University with a Bachelors degree in Business, married an English major he met at Coppin, had 2 boys, and moved down to Florida to live his American Dream. He made sure to make visits back to his parents during the holidays.

The middle child was named Brionna Elizabeth Campbell. During her childhood, Brionna was deemed the most sharp-mouthed and bold out of the 3. Despite Brian being the oldest, he would often be bossed around by Brionna. Brionna got into more scuffles than Brian, and as a result, was given more beatings than him. During those beatings, Brionna would not cry, as she knew that her worng decisions would come to that punishment. Her parents did not see the fear in her eyes when they rasied a hand or belt at her in discipline. It was only after the beatings when Brenda saw the real Brionna unfold, as she consoled her older sister as she cried silently in her grasp. Brenda would not tease Brionna for her tears, and she would not use them against her when Brionna felt like being the boss the very next day. As the years went by, Brionna grew up to be a more confident, yet collected individual. She graduated from Frostburg State University with a degree in Criminal Justic, and she lost contact with her family right afterwards. A year later, Brenda had recieved a call from Brionna saying that she had joined the CIA, and that she was getting married. Brionna had a small wedding in her hometown of Bethesda, concieved a girl, and named her Joanne Elizabeth James-Campbell.

Brenda was always the good girl of the family. She obeyed her parents, avoided confrontation at all costs, and maintained good grades throughout school. Her interest in photography sparked at age 8 when she stumbled upon her mother's collection of old family photos. She obtained her very first camera at age 12 and kept a collection of the many photos she had taken, similar to her mother. Brenda went to college out of state and graduated from Virginia Commonwealth University with a degree in Photography. She was then recruited to be a photographer for the CCJP(**C**ommitee of **C**onflict** J**ournalists and **P**hotographers) and she remained faithful to them for 5 years. She left the CCJP with a new prespective on the world, the loss of her faith in God, and Posttraumatic stress Disorder. Unlike her siblings, Brenda did not pursue many romantic endeavors. She entered a relationship with a kind photojournalist named Michael, but due to the amount of work and different schedules, the relationship only lasted for two weeks. Brenda moved back to Bethesda, Maryland and found work as a secretary. Her new job and life did not help her escape from her past completely. Brenda was still haunted by the memories of traumatized victims of war, how they looked at her with fear and insanity. When Brenda was a photograher, she felt a small pint of guilt for taking advantage of those poor people in a horrific time in their lives. After leaving the CCJP and photography completely, that guilt had doubled.

Overall, Brenda's life wasn't anything special. She experienced both the positives and negatives of life and had accepted them all. She was still young, but Brenda did not expect anything good or special for her life as of the moment. The "faces" still haunted her, pulling her deeper into depression as the days went on. There was nothing Brenda could do. She was alone, and she had accepted her lonliness. The world was slowly drifting away from her, or it was she that was drifting away from the world. Either way, there was no way out of it.

Atleast, that's what Brenda thought.

"Auntie Brenda!" Joanne called out.

Brenda opened her eyes and discovered Joanne staring at her with her shining brown eyes. Brenda looked confused a for a bit, and then let out a sigh in realization. Brenda has almost forgotten that Joanne was now staying with her.

"Yes, Jojo?" Brenda said with a faint smile.

Joanne smiled back a little. "I want some spaghetti."

Brenda remembered that she had some leftover pasta from two nights ago. "There's actually some leftover spaghetti in the refridgerator." she said.

"I know. I got me a bowl, but I can't reach the heat thingy."

'_Heat thingy?'_ Brenda thought about her words for a second, then rolled her eyes at her delayed answer. _'Oh. She means the mircrowave.'_

Brenda groaned and raised herself from her bed. She stared off into space while she pulled herself together. "What time is it?" she asked Joanne without looking at her.

Joanne looked her the alarm clock. "It's 1:25."

_'Damn...I slept for THAT long?'_. Brenda planted both feet on her bedroom floor and started walking towards her kitchen, with Joanne skipping right behind her. Joanne grabbed one of her aunt's hands and pointed to the dining room table. Brenda looked and saw her bowl sitting next the empty, dirty coffee mug that Brenda had this morning. Brenda walked over, grabbed the bowl, and placed it into the mircrowave. She set it for "Dinner", and Joanne pulled out a chair and watched the microwave turn on and spin her bowl slowly.

"Let me know when you start to see steam, or when you hear the spaghetti start to crackle and pop." Brenda said, picking up and coffee mug and placing it into the sink. She walked out of the kitchen and back to her bedroom, leaving the door cracked a bit. Brenda stopped in front of the mirror to take a look at herself and almost screamed at what she saw. She had hair from hell, bags that weighed heavy under her eyes, chapped lips that she got even drier with every lick over them. Brenda looked terrible, but she was used to it. Brenda never thought she was physically appealing.

The apartment phone started to ring. Brenda walked out of her room and into the living room. She looked over to Joanne and saw her still looking at the microwave. She smiled a bit and picked up the phone.

Brenda pressed "Talk" and pressed the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she said.

_**"Hey, sis. How's everything so far?" **_Brionna said with a cheerful tone. Brenda almost winced at her tone of voice.

"Everything's fine. Where are you?"

_**"Virginia. I'm at a small resturaunt."**_

"Ah. You went to the CIA headquarters?"

_**"Yeah. Mission starts tomorrow."**_

"Right..." Brenda rolled her eyes.

"It's popping!" Joanne called out.

Brenda walked over and opened the microwave. She reached for the bowl, but she jumped back when the hot bowl kissed her fingers. She picked the bowl up with one swift motion and set it on the table, slamming the microwave door shut afterwards.

_**"Popping?" **_Brionna asked.

"Spaghetti. Was making Joanne something to eat." Brenda answered.

_**"Oh, Joanne!" **_Brionna shouted. She had said it like she had forgotten she had a daughter. _**"Let me speak to her."**_

Brenda took the phone away from her ear and brought it down to Joanne. "Here. You talk to your mother while I go put this pasta in a much cooler bowl."

"Mommy!" Joanne shouted with a smile. She grabbed the phone and placed it to her ear. "Hi, Ma!"

_**"Baby!" **_Brionna said. Joanne's smile grew a bit wider. It was like she could feel her mother's smile on the other line.

Brenda hurried and placed the hot bowl on the counter. She opened the cabinet and grabbed another bowl, and she quickly, but steadily, dumped the hot spaghetti into the cooler bowl. She threw the hot bowl into the stove to be washed later, along with the coffee mug. She picked up the spaghetti bowl and walked out into the dining room. Brenda listened as Joanne laughed and watched as her face filled with happiness and delight. She could slightly hear Brionna's own laughter from the other line. Joanne proceeded to mention a cartoon character and a recent episode she had seen. She laughed again.

Brenda had a warm feeling in the bottom of her stomach. She assumed it was happiness, and she wondered if Brionna and Joanne had that warm feeling as well.

* * *

><p>After talking with Joanne for about 10 minutes, Brionna disconnected with her. She reached for her bottle of water and took the last chug of the liquid. She crushed the bottle in her hands and dropped it on the table, watching as the bottle slowly stretched open from its crushed points. A half-eaten ham and cheese sandwich and salt and vinegar chips remained on her plate. She cursed, now realizing that she had nothing to wash down her leftover food with. Just after that thought, another bottle of water eased over to right hand. Brionna looked up to see Joseph smiling at her.<p>

"Who was that?" Joseph asked, referring to her phone call.

Brionna snorted and grasped the new bottle of water. "My daughter and my sister. I was just checking up on them." she answered.

Joseph only nodded in understanding, and took a bite of his own sandwich. Brionna stared down at her food and placed her left hand to her cheek, as if she were in deep thought of the food laid out infront of her. Joseph watched this motion silently and immedietly knew her thoughts. In response, Joseph slyly reached his hand over and gently placed it over Brionna's. His hand covered hers almost completely, his fingers feeling the cold, wet surface of the water bottle.

Brionna looked up into Joseph's eyes, and she almost squirmed in her seat at the sight of them. There was pure concern soaked in Joseph's eyes, and Brionna almost could not take it. Joseph was young and slightly naiive; Brionna was older and in need of relief. Joseph liked Brionna for her looks and her attitude; Brionna accepted Joseph for his eagerness to work and his interest in her. It was a perfect match, whether Joseph knew it or not.

Brionna let out a chuckle and moved her hand from off the bottle, causing Joseph's hand to retreat back to the table. "I appreciate the pity, but I'm good." she said.

Joseph did not say anything and simply went back to his food. It was as if the past several hours didn't mean anything to Brionna.

* * *

><p><em><strong>3 and 12 Hours Earlier...**_

Brionna and Joseph had arrived at the CIA Headquarters at 9:55AM. The meeting was said to begin promptly at 10:00, and Brenda and Joseph hastily traveled down to the correct room before they intruded on the beginning of the meeting. Brionna opened the door to the meeting room and was met with the image of many CIA operatives seated in chairs, conversing with one another. There were a few men and women that were standing, all talking to eachother about different topics. Brionna muted out their conversations and scoped the room to find empty seats. Her eyes came across two seats that were placed in the upper rows. Brionna grasped one of Joseph's wrists and dragged him to the top of the stairs. Both of them excused and edged themselves passed people, but they finally made it to their seats right before everyone was silenced for the beginning of the meeting.

The room was killed with silence, now words were spoken as an aged man wearing an army uniform walked to the podium. No one clapped, but there was a high level of respect swimming in the air towards the man. Brionna squinted and leaned forward a bit.

The army man cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen of the CIA, I, General Shepherd, come here to deliver yet another threat not only to the United States of America, but to the entire world. I'm not gonna sugar-coat it; shit's hit the fan. That's why I've come here today to request your assisstance in this grave matter."

"The more things change, the more they stay the same. Boundaries shift, new players step in, but power always finds a place to rest its head. Years ago, we fought and bled alongside the Russians. We should've known they'd hate us for it. History is written by the victor. And here I am, thinking we'd won. But you bring down one enemy and they find someone even worse to replace him. That someone...is Vladimir Makarov."

Brionna had not noticed the screen behind General Shepherd until the picture of a Caucasian male appeared on the screen. Judging by the timing, Brionna assumed that the picture was of Vladimir Makarov. Brionna looked over the picture, studying the man's features and squinting at the bit of information that was given at the bottom right of the picture. Out of all of his features, Brionna studied Makaraov's eyes the most. His eyes showed a man with sick determination and insanity. His eyes were full of either thought or blood-thursty hatred; Brionna thought that it was more of the latter.

General Shepherd gave the crowd a few more seconds to look over Makarov before returning to his speech.

"Locations change, the rationale, the objective. Yesterday's enemies are today's recruits. Train them to fight alongside you, and pray they don't eventually decide to hate you for it too. Same shit, different day. I'm sure you all are familiar with that. The mission is simple; kill this motherfucker. Some of you will be working on special projects; all of you will be working as a unit. This is not the start of a war; it's the start of a struggle. A struggle that will reward the strong and embarrass the weak. A struggle that may very well exploit and challenge the upbringing of the American people. As I said before; same shit, different day."

General Shepherd turned and left the room without any further words, and everyone in the room stood and clapped as he left. Brionna rose to her feet and clapped, her eyes remaining on Shepherd until he was completely out of the room. Agents were dismissed, and Brionna made no hesitation making her way past them and out of the room. Joseph tried to catch up with her, but became engulfed into the crowd full of suits and different conversations.

Brionna's heels clipped to the hard marble flooring of the hallway as she trotted downwards, escaping the large mass of agents as quickly as possible. She had no idea as to where she was actually going, but she knew that she had desperatly wanted to leave that meeting room. The heat of the mass of agents was starting to affect her in an odd way, causing her to feel slightly light-headed. She continued down the hallway, hoping that a bathroom would come along and she could retreat in there, just in case Joseph turned a corner in pursuit of her.

In the midst of walking, Brionna's gained the taste for a candy bar. She hurried down the seemingly endless hallway in a fast pace, knowing that a vending machine was perched somewhere down the hall. Brionna's face lit up when her eyes spotted a large, rectangular shaped object laying perchd up against the wall. She reached into her pocket to pull out the money nessecary, but stopped when her eyes stared down a sign that was taped right on the glass covering.

_'Out Of Order? Great.' _Brionna sighed, stuffed her wallet back into her pocket, and proceeded up the nearby staircase in search of a new vending machine.

After venturing up two flights of stairs, Brionna stepped onto the 2nd floor. A similar rectangular shaped object caught itself in the corner of Brionna's eye, and she turned in slight eagerness. Brionna hurried over to the vending machine and grinned when she saw that it did not come with an "Out of Order" sign taped to it. Humming a tune to herself, Brionna reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet. Before she could snap it open, a familiar voice brushed alongside Brionna's eardrums. Brionna turned to her right and realized that the voice had slipped through the cracked door that was just a few paces down from Brionna.

"I'm in Langley. What's with these constant phone calls? I told you we had a deal already." the voice said.

"General Shephred?" Brionna whispered.

Brionna wanted to move in to listen more, as Shepherd's voice was barely audible from where Brionna stood, but feared that her heels would give her presence away. Brionna lifted one foot up and slipped off a heel and caught it before it could hit the ground. She proceeded to do the same with the other heel and then eased her away over to the cracked door, making sure to keep close to the wall. Once Brionna was close enough, she stopped and listened to General Shepherd's words.

"Don't worry, Makarov. Everything is set. I have a potential agent who can help with our plan. I have ran over his record and I've seen him during a training course. He's perfect. Now, we have to just let everything play out." Shepherd said.

Brionna could feel her breath retreated back into her throat, and she placed a hand over her neck to avoid panicking. Her brown eyes stretched out in shock over the words she had just heard. _'Makarov...?' _It could not be true. The same man that was telling just about the entire CIA of the dangerous Makarov was in turn working for the damn man. It was too much to take in. Brionna even started questioning her current state of mind, she had to be hallucinating. Regardless of whether or not she was hallucinating, Brionna swallowed her shock and continued listening to General Shepherd.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. Just hold up your part of the deal, and everything will be fine." General Shepherd said. "Gotta go."

After hearing that, Brionna hurried back over to the vending machine and slipped her shoes back on. General Shepherd walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. He walked down the hall and spotted Brionna taking her wallet out and preparing to get something out of the vending machine. Brionna swallowed a lump in her throat and continued to fiddle with her wallet, staring straight at the different, assorted candies and snacks. She continued to stare straight ahead until she heard General Shepherd's footsteps stop in place, making her more alarmed than she already was. Her mouth grew dry and she licked over lips, as if that would help ease the burning in her throat.

"Excuse me, Miss?" General Shepherd said.

Brionna's shoulders straightened and she turned to Shepherd swiftly. Her turn resembled that to soldiers in the Army, and Shepherd let out a chuckle from the resemblence. "Could you tell me what time it is?" Shephred asked.

Brionna took out her phone and checked the time. "It's 10:35, sir." Brionna told him.

"Thanks, doll." Shepherd said and continued walking down the hallway.

Brionna bit down on her lip and she glared at Shepherd's back as he walked away. Brionna felt as if a heavy burden was placed upon her shoulders, and the burden grew heavier as she watched Shepherd walk away further and further. Questions popped into her head as she just stood there, watching the space that Shepherd had previously stood in when talking to her. What was she to do? Who was the agent that Shepherd had it mind? What if it was her? That could not have been possible. Shepherd would have talked to her about the mission right then and there if she was the chosen agent. The only other agent Brionna thought out of was Allen, but she quickly dismissed the idea in a mixture of fear and denial. However, the mysterious mission was not the most important portion of this situation. It was the connection between Shepherd and Makarov. Brionna did not have a single clue as to why Shepherd chose to work with Makarov, but there was a small bit of determination swelling in Brionna that he pursuaded her to find out.

Brionna had lost her taste for a snack and she stuffed her wallet back into her pocket once more. She heard footsteps coming up to the stairs, and Joseph stepped onto the second floor. He turned, but jumped back a bit when he met Brionna. A corner of Brionna's mouth curled up a bit, shaping her entire mouth into a smirk.

"Hey, Allen." Brionna said.

"Brionna, where did you go? Why did you just leave like that?" Joseph asked.

"That's not important." Brionna said, walking over to Joseph. She placed a soft kiss on his lips and smiled at him, and Joseph settled down for a bit.

"I was just worried." Joseph said, his voice softer than before and his eyes now glued to Brionna's.

"Well, now you've got nothing to worry about. I'm fine. Now, what do you say we get our assignments and go somewhere...more private. Like a motel, maybe?" Brionna suggested, fiddling with Joseph's collar. She winked, and Joseph looked away to hide his smile.

"This early?" Joseph asked, his face directed away from Brionna's.

"Yeah, guess you're right. Tell you what. Let's just get something to eat and do a little sight-seeing. I've never really checked out Virginia before. That sound good?" Brionna said.

Joseph nodded and smiled, and planted a kiss on Brionna's lips that was slightly deeper than Brionna's own kiss to him. Brionna chuckled, grabbed Joseph's wrist, and they proceeded to walk down the hallway in search of an elevator. They found one, and Brionna pressed the Up button, her fingers still wrapped around Joseph's wrist. The elevator doors opened and Brionna and Joseph stepped in. Brionna pressed the button to the 4th floor, and watched as the elevator door closed. Joseph looked over to Brionna, whom's grip had tightened around the Caucasian male's wrist. He did not object, but he grew concerned when he witness Brionna start to space off and lose herself while staring at the silver elevator doors.

"Brionna?" Joseph mumbled.

Brionna heard his mumble and turned her head to him. Brionna would have acknowledged him, but the elevator sounded and the doors began to open. Finally realizing that she was still holding onto Joseph, Brionna released him and a muttered a short apology, and made her way out of the elevator. Joseph followed behind her, never taking his eyes off of the back of her head. They walked together in silence, and they stopped in front of wooden door. Brionna gave the door three short knocks, a "Come in" was heard, and Brionna opened the door and they both walked in. Brionna and Joseph met eyes with an aging Caucasian man with a beard and silver, grey hair sitting at his desk. He nodded to the two, and they both took a seat in the only other chairs in his room.

"Names." the man commanded.

"Campbell, Brionna." Brionna said.

"Allen, Joseph." Joseph said.

The man grumbled and pulled out a drawer in the desk. Brionna and Joseph heard some shuffling for a few seconds, until the man came up with two tan folders and he slammed them on the desk. One folder had Brionna's name on it, while the other folder had Joseph's name. He picked up Brionna's folder and motioned it over to her, and she grabbed it.

Joseph leaned in to grab his folder as well, but the bearded man grabbed Joseph's folder and held it in his hand. He looked over it, opened it, closed it, and shot a glance at Joseph. Joseph stole a glance at Brionna, who looked at him with an equally curious look.

The man behind the desk looked at the folder and asked, "Joseph Allen, right?"

Joseph nodded. "Yes, sir."

The man looked at him and flashed a small smile at him. "Today's your lucky day. Seems like you have been chosen for a special mission regarding the Makarov case. A special mission set by General Shepherd."

Joseph gasped in a quiet mixture of shock and excitement. Brionna remained quiet, and she continued to stare off into space. Brionna had not hoped that it was Joseph who would be the agent that Shepherd had referred to earlier. It seemed as if Brionna's entire world became crashing around her, and she glued down to the seat to watch it crumble. _'No...not Joseph. Fuck you, Shepherd.'_

"R-really?" Joseph asked, his voice cracking with disbelief.

"Yes, really." General Shepherd answered.

Brionna and Joseph turned around and saw Shepherd walking into the room, his gaze focused mostly on Joseph. Joseph quickly sprung to his feet and extended his hand eagerly. Shepherd shook it and gave him a small smile. "Joseph Allen. Please to meet you." Shepherd said.

"It's an honor to be in your presence again, Sir." Joseph said. Joseph sat down as Shepherd walked over to stand beside the man at the desk.

"I've looked over your file, Allen, and I have to say that I am quite impressed at what I saw. It says that you served a bit of time in the Army Rangers, is that correct?"

Brionna turned her head to Joseph. "You were in the Army Rangers?" she muttered.

"Excuse me, but could you please excuse us for a moment?" Shepherd asked, his eyes on Brionna.

Brionna turned towards him and looked over Shepherd for a bit. A bit of anger rushed through her body, but she succeeded in keeping her composure and nodded. Brionna rose to her feet and and she exited the room. After closing the door behind her, Brionna gently pressed her body up against the door in order to catch any audible information. The dryness in Brionna's throat had returned, but she had no time to find a vending machine to buy a beverage. Unfortantely, Brionna could not hear anything from behind the doors. She sighed and rolled over onto the wall, looking down at her feet in desperation. Brionna was scared for Joseph's life. Shepherd's involvement with Makarov could result in a fast death for Joseph. She had information of this plan right out of the mouth of Shepherd, but Brionna was overwhelmed with fear of going public with the information. What if the CIA did not believe her? What would Shepherd do if he found out that his secret had been discovered? Would he come after Brionna? Would he come after her family and kill them to seek revenge?

_'Joanne...'_

The door clicked and Brionna's head turned in instinct. The door fully opened and a beaming Joseph stepped out. His shaking fingers nearly crushed the edge of the folder with excitement and complete happiness. He turned to Brionna, his pearly whites nearly blinding Brionna.

Brionna chuckled. "Someone's happy..."

"Fuck yeah. Oh man, you wouldn't believe what Shepherd said. Aw, this is amazing. I'll tell you when we get to a diner, babe." Joseph said. His pressed his lips against Brionna's a little harder than intended, and Brionna pushed him off and turned away.

Joseph stared at Brionna in slight surprise. "Brionna? What's wrong?" he asked.

Brionna could not answer Joseph's question, as Brionna's current problems and worries were not something that Joseph would have liked to hear at that moment. Brionna could tell him Shepherd's true motives and intentions, but Brionna did not think that she could take to see the disappointment and astonishment on Joseph's face. Brionna turned so she would not have to see his face, no matter what expression it carried.

One of Joseph's hands grabbed Brionna's shoulders, and she turned around with sadness lodged in her eyes. Brionna figured that Joseph caught that sadness and was now concerned, which did not help Brionna's emotional state at all. Before Joseph could question Brionna's currrent mood, Brionna wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her soft, but shaking lips against Joseph's stern ones. Her tongue glided along his lips, as if she were asking for entrance. Joseph obliged and spread his lips apart, and Brionna slipped her tongue in for a brief moment before retracting. Joseph wrapped his arms around Brionna's waist, but he made sure to keep a grip onto his assignment folder.

Jospeh tried to deepen the lip lock, but Brionna pulled away before he could. Joseph looked saddened at the departure, but he was really more turned on than ever. Brionna's fast retreat from the kiss made Joseph want more of her, and he was eager to take the rest of her if she was offering. Brionna removed her arms from around his neck and stared at him as she backed up. Joseph looked at her up and down, biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes scanned Brionna's figure.

"You know...maybe we _should _get a hotel room." Joseph said, a smirk creeping on his face.

Brionna grinned and chuckled. "After we eat, okay? We have to celebrate you earning your special assignment.

"There's only one way I want to celebrate, babe."

Brionna winked. "_After _we eat. Okay, babe?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Present<strong>_

Brionna took another hard bite into her sandwich, still staring at the plate as she chewed. She figured that if these were, in fact, Joseph's last days alive before going on his mission, she should enjoy them while they lasted. She did not want Joseph to spend his last days worrying about her, she wanted him to enjoy them with the woman he took interest in. She would allow Joseph to make love to her for as long as he liked if it satisfied him. She would become his temporary lover, temporary mate, his temporary object of affection. Brionna would let Joseph smother her with spit and kisses and express his affection for her, all to make him happy. She could not believe that she was letting this happen; Brionna had all the information she needed to make a claim.

Then, it finally dawned on her. Brionna could make a claim, but she needed **proof **to back it up. _'Shit...'_

Brionna needed relief, and she needed it fast. She finally looked up and stared at Joseph stuffing his face quietly. While he seemed focused on his meal, his eyes dripped with longing and concern. Brionna was starting to despise those eyes. They made her break down inside, and it felt almost impossible for Brionna to put herself back together again after looking into those eyes. Brionna swallowed the remains of her sandwich and pushed the plate away, as if she were disgusted with what was left. Joseph heard the bottom of the plate slide against the table and he looked up at Brionna.

"Don't want anymore?" Joseph asked.

Brionna shook her head no. "Lost my appetite all of sudden. Sorry."

Joseph nodded. "It's cool. What do you want to do now?"

Brionna smirked at him, and Joseph laughed. "Besides the obvious." he said.

"See the sights?"

"Ugh..."

"Oh, don't be like that. Come on." Brionna said with a huge smile.

The smile was killer. Joseph gave in. Sighing, he raised his hand when a waitress walked by and asked for the check.

* * *

><p>It was 8:45PM. The cool, nighttime air of Virginia graced its presence into Brionna and Joseph's motel room through the open window, the window's thin curtains dancing as the wind pushed them upwards. The cool draft was a refreshing addition to the musky, sticky atmosphere that had formed in the midst of their love making. The cheap bed sheets had managed to stick themselves onto their bodies with the help of the sweat that rolled down their skin as they grinded against each other. Their hair was itchy from the amount of prespiration and the heat in the room Hoarse moans had escaped Brionna's lips and ran straight into the ears of Joseph, who occassionally answered back with his own husky groans. Joseph's hand had grasped Brionna's neck gently for more support as he proceeded to penetrate her, causing a slight shortage of breath that Brionna found surprisingly arousing. Her nails had clawed and scratched along his back, digging themselves into the pale skin when Joseph decided to speed up the pace of their love making.<p>

The sex had been long, but worthwhile. They both figured that they owed it to themselves, as they both fell asleep after driving around McLean in a pathetic attempt at sight-seeing. They were both in terrible need for showers, but it was this filthe that aroused them more and pursuaded them to continue their sexual act. Brionna and Joseph both looked like vanilla and chocolate swirling togetherin the sheets, with sweat seeping through the cracks of where their bodies did not connect. During the sex, Brionna had climaxed a total of 4 times. Each time, Brionna had held onto Joseph as if for dear life, and she tried to lower the volume of her shouts of passion by biting down on Joseph's shoulder. She held onto him, knowing that this was the closest she was ever going to get to Joseph because of his near fate. She held onto him in fear and remorse, each climax fueled by the guilt that Brionna had because of her inability to help Joseph. Brionna refused to look into his eyes; she knew it would have been over if she even caught a glimpse of them. She hid her eyes from him out of sorrow and desperation. Brionna could not look at him, and instead, looked around the shanty motel room. With the rusted lamp the only source of light, the room was a sorry sight to look upon, and Brionna figured the only feeling of worth the room could serve would be the execution of their sexual intercourse.

Joseph grunted and increased the speed of his grinding, causing Brionna to dig her nails into his back and wrap her legs around his waist in preparation for another climax. Joseph would not make this climax like the others, and used the hand that had grasped Brionna's neck to grab Brionna's jaw and direct it forward. Brionna's widened her eyes when they settled on Joseph's. Brionna could feel a slight sense of panic, but it only increased her arousal. Joseph was forcing Brionna to look at him. Brionna cursed herself for finding this act of dominance attractive. Their breathing had increased and Brionna tried to move her jaw, but Joseph's grip was a strong one. The grinding quickened, and Brionna almost had a full on scream of panic until Joseph leaned down close to her face, their eyes connected by an unbreakable chain. They had both decreased the volume of their panting, and their arousal was fueled by the lustrious sound of their genitals smacking together in a rushed fashion. Joseph's face was stern and serious, the beads of sweat rolling down and dripping onto Brionna's cheeks. The only sounds in the room where pelvises crashing together, bodily fluids squishing and leaking, and the motel bed creaking.

In the midst of the few sounds, Joseph's voice forced out of his throat. "Look at me."

Brionna's eyes widened, her hands clenching his back and her legs tightened around him. A warm, rushing sensation overwhelmed her body and Brionna's eyes snapped shut in instinct, but Joseph shook her jaw and forced them back open. Brionna had to keep her eyes open throughout the entire climax, a task that was more difficult than it sounded. Nevertheless, Brionna obliged. If it satisfied Joseph, Brionna was willing to do it. She kept her eyes open and on Joseph throughout the entire orgasm. The pleasurable shouts that had been previously attempted to tone down by biting Joseph's shoulder surprisingly came out strained and restricted, even without the use of Joseph's shoulder. Joseph kept his eyes on Brionna as he released himself inside of her for the 5th time, his grasp on her jaw loosening.

They were finished. Joseph removed his hand from Brionna's face completely and he lowered his head a bit to plant a soft kiss on her quivering lips. Brionna saw Joseph's closed eyes, and figured that she could close hers as well. She did, and she wrapped her arms around his neck when a feeling of reassurment soar through her body and soothed her. Joseph planted all over his weight on Brionna gently and rested his head next to Brionna's. They had not said a word, as their voices were overpowered by the loss of energy. Joseph just stared at Brionna's eyes that were placed upon the ceiling, until Joseph felt his eyes slowly lowering. The image of Brionna's face grew smaller and smaller, and the last image Joseph saw before drifting off into sleep for good was Brionna turning her head to look at him.

Once Brionna saw that Jospeh was asleep, she turned her head back to the ceiling. She continued to stare at it as it spun around, until she felt her own begin to grow heavy. Joseph's sweaty, sticky body did not help her stay awake, as his body generated heat on her. The occassional Virginia air came swooping in, creating the perfect type of atmosphere for Brionna to fall asleep to. Brionna reached over and turned off the lamp before she allowed the slumber to overpower her. She did not object to it, and she welcomed her slumber with open arms as a whistle of a wind brushed against her cheeks.

* * *

><p>Brionna awoke at 1:30AM, succesfully managed to crawl from under Joseph's body, and crept quietly into the bathroom for a shower. After about 20 minutes, Brionna emerged from the bathroom naked and partially dry, with a small cardboard box firmly in her hands. The cardboard box had a piece of paper taped to it, and Brionna had placed the box next to Joseph's bags for him to see when he awoke.<p>

Brionna had changed into clean clothes, gathered her things and headed towards the door. Before she could reach for the doorknob, Brionna stopped. She allowed a few seconds to past and she slowly turned to look at the sleeping Joseph. Brionna walked over to him and admired his facial features. His lips moved slightly has breath slipped out of them in every exhale, his voice huskier than normal but too soft to be called a snore. Brionna gave him a weak smile and kissed the tip of his nose.

"Look who's eyes are closed now." Brionna joked, a giggle slipping from her lips.

Brionna turned and headed out the door, closing it with as little noise as possible. With her bag of clothes and other items in one hand, Brionna spun on her heels as the Virginia air smacked her face. She did not, however, make it far from the motel room. Just as she turned around, Brionna's eyes caught the image of a black, ugly gun staring her down. Brionna froze. The gun was aimed between her eyes, but she still got a clear picture of the weapon. Brionna saw fingers wrapped around the gun, the index finger playfully tapping against the trigger. Brionna stared into the eyes of the figure, and she simply smirked at them.

"I have a strong feeling that this isn't just some ordinary mugging." Brionna said.

The figure waited a few seconds before responding. "No...it's a punishment."

With that, the figure pulled the trigger and aimed one right in between Brionna's eyes. There was no sound of the gun going off, as it had been modified with a silencer. Blood splattered all on the motel room door and onto the concrete as Brionna fell hard onto it. Her bag had collapsed alongside her, and her murderer had just watched as her blood had spread and dripped. The killer turned around, waved their hand, and a car pulled up right afterwards. Two men had jumped out of the car; one with trash bags, and another with a cleaning kit. One man proceeded to stuff and cover Brionna's corpse into the black trash bags, while the other man cleaned up the blood from off the concrete and the door. Once they were finished with their respective duties, both men lifted the deceased Brionna up and they walked towards the car. Brionna's killer had already made it to the car, and had popped the trunk with ease. The killer's assistants dropped Brionna into the trunk and they slammed it shut. The killer threw Brionna's bag into the backseats.

"Boss, what about him?" one of the killer's assistants asked, pointing his thumb over to the still opened window.

The killer looked inside and saw Joseph's sleeping body. Joseph's snores rang in the killer's ears, and they had dismissed him.

"The motherfucker's asleep. He didn't see shit." the killer said.

With that, all three of them entered the car swiftly and drove off. They had not said a single word during the drive. In the trunk, Brionna's body was compacted into the trash bags, bumping against the walls of the trunk when the car hit bumpy parts of the road.

Brionna's lifeless eyes had remained open for the entire drive.

* * *

><p>Yikes, what a scary ending. :

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter of "Through The Lens" and the next chapter will be up as soon as I can get it up. Reviews are appreciated.

Thank you!


	4. FNGs and Deja Vu

Hello, fellow readers! Here's Chapter 3 of "Through the Lens". Thanks to all the readers, but I would love more reviews as well. Thank you to** Frittlecakesgalore **for the last one. :3

I don't own Call of Duty. Enjoy!

Through the Lens

A Call of Duty and OC Story

By SamuraiWriter

* * *

><p><em><span>Chapter 3: FNGs and Deja Vu<span>_

Brenda's alarm clock sounded and the Black woman's eyes shot open. She reached a lazy hand over and slammed the alarm clock repeatdly until the ringing in her ears had stopped. Brenda ran a hand over her eyes to wipe the tears before they could travel down her cheeks. Her fingers clutched onto the bed sheets as she remembered the last images of her recent nightmare. Brenda stared up at the ceiling in an attempt to forget the dream. The ceiling fan was moving silently and Brenda watched as a speck of dust flew off one of the blades and floated to the floor. Brenda did not rush out of bed like before, she knew it was Sunday. Without turning, Brenda reached over to the nightstand and felt around for her cell phone. She grabbed it and pressed a button to activate it. She frowned.

"Damn...no texts or missed calls." she muttered, her voice hoarse and dry from her slumber.

Brenda expected a call or a text message from Brionna, as she had promised to call before she started her mission that day. Brenda shrugged it off; Brionna would, hopefully, call later on. Brenda forced herself out of the bed to use the bathroom, bumping into the nightstand and the dresser on her way out of the bedroom. She partially limped out of her bedroom and made her way to the bathroom. Brenda pressed a hand against the bathroom door and pushed it open more, and she stopped when she spotted Joanne curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor. Her curly, brown hair was sprawled all over her head, with several strands of the corkskrew hair sticking out in an innocent fashion. Brenda immediatly grew alarmed and she lowered down closer to Joanne. As Brenda grew closer to the girl, she could see that Joanne was holding onto an object. Brenda placed a gentle hand on her head, and Joanne slowly lifted her head to stare into her aunt's eyes.

"Joanne? What's the matter? Why are you on the floor?" Brenda asked.

Joanne sniffled, but Brenda saw no signs of crying. Joanne unfolded her arms and fully revealed a stuffed, beat up teddy bear. Its fur was originally brown, but the fur had become discolored in some places due to the lack of proper cleaning of the teddy bear. White stuffing stuck out of the hole that was ripped in the stuffed bears right paw, and another hole was forming on the belly of the teddy bear. After close examination, Brenda had recognized the bear. It was the same bear that the Campbell's had given to Brionna for her 2nd birthday, and Brionna had passed it down to Joanne on her 2nd birthday. Brenda remembered how defensive Brionna had gotten when the teddy bear was threatened, placed into danger, or taken from her by her brother. It was Brionna's best friend, and it comforted Brionna whenever she was alone. She had passed it down to Joanne for the purpose of curing her lonliness whenever Brionna was away on business.

Joanne held up the teddy bear to Brenda, as if the answer to her question was within the stuffed animal. "I went to the bathroom, and I suddenly started to miss Ma, so I was hugging Brownie like Ma told me to whenever I missed her." Joanne said.

Brenda smiled. _'Brionna didn't even change the bear's name.'_

"Well, you don't have to do it in the bathroom." Brenda said.

Joanne shook her head violently, her curly hair flying all over the place. "No. Ma said that I should hug Brownie whenever I missed her. No matter where I was." she said.

Brenda turned and sat next to Joanne on the floor, looking down at her as she hugged the stuffed bear more. Joanne stopped and looked up at Brenda.

"Do you miss Ma, Auntie Brenda?" she asked.

Brenda smiled down at her and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Joanne nodded and lifted the teddy bear towards her. Brenda gently took the stuffed bear in her arms and looked over it. She had noticed that one of its eyes hung from a small string on the bear's face, and Brenda had the urge to pull it from the string, but allowed it to hang. The fur was rough, but still in good condition considering how long the bear had been around and abused. She smiled at the bear, as memories of a small Brionna running around with the bear in her arms. Brenda closed her eyes and brought the bear to her chest, hugging it softly yet firmly.

* * *

><p>"So, how do I look?" Joseph asked.<p>

"Like one of the bad guys. Perfect for your undercover assignment." Shepherd replied, eyeing Joseph's appearance.

On the exterior, Joseph was prepared for his undercover mission. His sandy brown hair was brushed back and his face possessed a lingering 5 o'clock shadow. A small hint of cheap cologne squeezed through his clothes and the military gear that he wore over them. He gave off a rugged and cold impression, his presence overwhelming the room with pure determination and focus. On the outside, Joseph was Shepherd's well-oiled machine, ready to force his way through the line of war and casulty. On the outside, Joseph was Shepherd's eager and ready soldier.

On the interior, however, Joseph was a wreck. Brionna's sudden disappearance had left him curious and worried. Joseph had wondered if the previous night's sexual escapade was an influence, but he dismissed the thought from his mind when he could not uncover valid reasons for Brionna leaving at the motel. Regardless of her reason, Joseph missed her terribly, but summoned all the remaining courage he had to hide his sadness and bitterness. He had constantly called Brionna's cell phone, but he received no answer each time he called. The box that Brionna had left for her had only increased his curiosity, but despite his hightened curiousity, he refused to look inside. According to the paper, Brionna wanted the box to be personally delivered to the address written on the piece of paper. Unfortanetly, Joseph knew that he did not have enough time to drive to Bethesda, MD to deliver the package, and then drive back to Virginia and make it back in time to be picked up by General Shepherd. After some quick thinking, Joseph contacted a close friend in Fairfax, and in due time, the package was on its way to the designated address. The purpose of the box and its contents had bugged Joseph to no end, and yet he kept his composure as Shepherd was explaining the mission to him. While pictures of Makarov and info on the assignment had flashed on the screen that hung behind Shepherd, images of Brionna flashed in Joseph's mine in between Shepherd's words.

Joseph swallowed his uneasiness to Brionna's disappearance and focused on the information on the screen. "So Makarov is the prize."

"Makarov's no prize. He's a whore. A mad-dog killer for the highest bidder." Shepherd said. "Just remember your new identity. It'll keep you alive."

After Shepherd's words, a certain emblem appeared onto the screen. It was a combination of blue and gray. Joseph quickly admired the knife in the middle, along with its blue wings and the skull that hung ontop of the dagger. Joseph smirked. He could feel a certain aura that the image possessed. It represented a power that could have only been expressed through grit, blood, violent bitterness. Joseph appreciated that aura, as he was now apart of it.

"Welcome to the 141. Best handpicked group of warriors on the planet." Shepherd said.

Joseph nodded. "It's an honor, sir. When do I meet the rest of the team?"

The General smirked at his eagerness. "They're on a mission recovering a downed ACS module behind enemy lines."

Joseph chuckled and decided to add a bit of humor. "Their feet wet?"

Shepherd accepted this humor. "Imagine they're just about freezing right now."

"Sounds like a collective bunch. Can't wait to meet them."

"Don't get too attached to them, Allen. You're not staying with the 141 for long."

Joseph nodded. "May I ask how long I will be a Task Force member, sir?"

"One day, Allen."

Joseph eyes widened a bit. "A day? That's all, sir?"

"That's all you need. I told you, you aren't here to make friends, Allen. Get on the base, rest up, and prepare for your mission the next day. It's in and out, really. I chose you for this mission because I thought you could handle the pace of this assignment, and get done what needs to be done. Don't make me regret this decision, Allen. Not when it matters the most."

Joseph had seen this before. Shepherd was challenging him. Joseph gave the older male the satisfaction and nodded, saluting him with a stern look.

Another smirked crept on Shepherd's face. "Don't salute anyone when you get to the 141 base, either. It's not going to help your status as the FNG."

* * *

><p>Cigarette smoke rushed out of John A. MacTavish's chapped lips as the Captain lounged in his office chair, staring up at the ceiling. He was brewing with irritation as he waited for the knock at the door that signaled the arrival of the new Task Force 141 member, Joseph Allen. John had just returned from a cold mission in the mountains of Kazakhstan with Sgt. Gary Sanderson, or "Roach" as known by the rest of the men. John did not take too kindly gaining a new member in the midst of such a strenious mission. John did not like the idea of making the new recruit feel acquainted with the rest of the team, when the rest of them teams' irritability could have been fueled by the drop of a spoon. John took another puff from his cigar and exhaled it out, but he awkwardly coughed as some of the smoke did not exit his mouth properly.<p>

"Shite..." he muttered and he killed the cigar by smashing its lit end onto the desk.

Just as the ashes kissed the desk, a knock was heard at the door. John looked up slowly, as if he had just heard his doom. He sighed, pushed himself away from the desk, and walked over to the door. He opened the door and was immediatly met with bright brown eyes and a pale, Caucasian face. He raised an eyebrow and backed up a bit, eyeing the man up and down. He was dressed in civilian clothes and there was a luggage bag in one hand. He stared at John as well, but did not eye in him like the Captain had did him.

John released a sigh. He assumed the man was the FNG.

"Captain MacTavish?" Joseph asked.

"Unfortanetly." John replied. Despite his attitude, John extended a hand. "And you are?"

"Allen. Joseph Allen." Joseph said as he shook John's hand. "It's an honor to be here."

"Yeah, coming from the man who's only here for a sleepover. Anyway, I take it General Shepherd had other business to attend to?"

Joseph nodded. "He said that you could take over from here."

John rolled his eyes lazily and pushed passed Joseph. "Follow me. I'll give you the tour. Don't take it personally if the members give you a hard time because you're the FNG. They were FNG's once, and they were treated the exact same way, so their teasing is just a way to cope with their experiences. Oh, and don't salute anyone here. It won't help y-"

"My status as the FNG. Shepherd filled me in on that." Joseph said.

"Good. Less talking for me, then." John joked.

John guided Joseph through the base, repeating the same speech he made for all the new recruits. The base was relatively big and was located on an island in the Baltic Sea. Before the base was built, the island was inhabited by friendly locals and animals. There was an entire community built, seemingly cut off from the rest of the world. The 141 base was completed around the end of 2014, and now the base took up a large part of the island, while still seperating itself from the community. Joseph was shown the barracks, the recreational building/gymnasium, the small cafeteria, the infirmary, and the shooting range. During the tour, John stole a few glances at Joseph to look at his reaction to the base. Joseph looked a bit impressed, but he lacked bursting enthusiasm. John did not mind; Joseph's enthusiasm was the last thing he wanted to endure.

Both men made their way back to the barracks, and John turned to face Joseph. "You will be staying here. Try not to feel too uncomfortable when walking in." John pointed to the front door with his thumb and smirked. "They can smell fear."

Joseph chuckled and nodded. "I'll try my best, sir."

John nodded and walked away, relieved to be done with the tour. As John walked away, he heard the sound of the barracks' door opening and the immature shouts of the fellow Task Force members inside. Joseph planted both feet onto the barrack floor and was met the looks of three different men. Joseph ignored the shouts and the looks and walked over to an empty bed. He flashed a look at one of the men, as to see if the bed was availiable. He was a Caucasian man dressed in a white T-Shirt and blue jeans. His brown hair looked messy and greasy, and his identical eyes held onto bags that appeared to bring the rest of his face down. The man had yet to shave, his facial hair curving and wrapping around his chin and lips.

He smiled and shrugged. "Take it."

Joseph nodded and placed his luggage bag down on the bed. "Thanks."

"So...you're the FNG?" the bearded man asked.

Joseph opened his suitcase and gazed at the things inside. "Want my autograph?"

Another man grunted. "He's a smartass, too."

Joseph looked over at another Caucasian male. This one was bald, clean-shaven. He sat at the end of his bed, legs spread and his upper body bent over with his arms in the open space between his legs. The man's bright green eyes stared at Joseph, a smug expression on his face. "But, we've had worse. People here call me Archer. You aren't priviledged enough to know my real name yet, FNG."

"I wasn't really bending over backwards to know it, either. I'm Joseph."Joseph said, taking out a shirt from his luggage bag.

"I'm Royce Phillips, but just call me Royce." the bearded man said. "Nicknames aren't really my cup of vodka."

Joseph nodded to Royce and turned to the third man, who was seemingly asleep on one of the beds closest to Archer. The sleeping man was dressed in dirty black jeans and and much cleaner black T-shirt, and the man's shoes were still intact on his feet. Joseph assumed the man was too tired to kick them off.

"And who's he?" Joseph asked, pointing towards him.

Royce turned over to the man and sucked his teeth. "That's Gary Sanderson, or Roach. He's a bit tired from his last mission with Captain MacTavish. Killing a bunch of Russian troops does that to you, ya know?"

"Uh, yeah." Joseph said. "I suppose I could relate."

Joseph continued to most of his things silently, and in the midst of unpacking clothing and small firearms, a small photo had slipped away and floated to the bed. Joseph immediatly stopped unpacking and reached for the photo, but Royce's fingers were much quicker than the Private's. Joseph made an awkward attempt to make it around the bed in time to get a quick snatch of the photo, but Royce moved without taking his eyes off of the photo. Realizing that it was a defeated battle, Joseph stopped dead in his tracks and watched as a mischeveous grin crept onto Royce's face. In the corner of Joseph's eye, Archer was edging off the bed as if to get a peek at the photo, despite him being a good few paces away from it.

Royce licked his lips and turned the photo around to Joseph. "And who's _this _beautiful woman? Your girlfriend? You into the brown sugar?"

It was as if Joseph could actually feel his cheeks rise in temperature as he forced himself to calmly take the photo from Royce's fingers. It was a picture of a smiling Brionna that Joseph had managed to take during a night between the two agents. The more Joseph looked at the picture, the more he remembered. In the photograph, Brionna was giving him a defeated smile, her white teeth glowing with a playfulness that erupted from Joseph's own acts of naiivety. While laying on a couch, Brionna held her hands up, an attempt to block her face from the shot. A joke from Joseph caused her to break her defensive nature, and a timeless smile was the result. In that second, Joseph took the picture. The picture came out blurred, a bit distorted, but still quite recognizable. Brionna's smile stuck out the most, and it was that smile that convinced Joseph take the picture just about wherever he went.

In the midst of reminiscing, Joseph had not noticed that Archer had eased his way behind him to look at the picture. "She's pretty. Girlfriend? Wife?"

With a smile, Joseph shook his head with a kind of pitiful gentleness. "She was my goal."

* * *

><p>Secretly, Brenda was on the edge.<p>

She had not heard from Brionna since she had woke up. She called Brionna's cell phone numerous times, but recieved only her voicemail everytime. About every now and then, Joanne asked if her mother had called, and Brenda would force out a smile each time and tell her in the sweetest voice she could make, "Not yet".

Everywhere Brenda walked around the apartment, her cellphone was surgically attached to her. The kitchen, the bathroom, the couch. Brenda held it close to her, but she never felt it buzz in her pants pocket. Brenda's nerves were starting to act up. She had devoured her fingernails in order to feed her anxiety, plucked out small, loose strands of hair that were suddenly an annoyance to her, checked up on Joanne an unnessecary number of times just to find an excuse to get up. Brenda even washed the dishes that had been placed in the sink from the day before, a task that was often not executed due to procrastination. After there was nothing left to ease her anxiety, Brenda sat at the dining room table with her head buried in her arms.

There was a knock at her door, and Brenda sprung up from her chair, her heart beating faster than normal with the hopes of Brionna appearing magically behind that door. Not even asking who it was, Brenda undid the lock, gripped the doorknob, and tore the door open with the most hopeful look that Brenda could concox.

However, the hopeful look slowly withered away, and was replaced with a more confused expression when Brenda locked eyes with an unfamiliar face. It was a balding, Caucasian man who, Brenda thought, gave off the aroma of a serial killer or a sociopath. Little beads of sweat slid down from his head, and he wiped them away with an awkward hand. His clothes looked wrinkled and slightly dirty, with sweat spots curling from under his armpits. The man looked terrible hot, and Brenda almost convinced herself to offer the man a drink of water. Brenda took her attention from the man to the box he was carrying, as Brenda heard the contents rumble a bit by the friction of the man's shaking hands.

Despite the surprising sight, Brenda managed to spit some words out. "Can I help you, sir?"

The man nodded and shoved the box towards Brenda and she grabbed the box with firm hands. "Joseth told me to give this-th to you." the man said, a lisp swimming from his mouth.

"Who?" Brenda asked, an eyebrow rising.

The bald man said no more and scurried away, Brenda's eyes never leaving him as he quickly walked. She looked down at the box, and stepped back inside the house and closed the door behind her. The box seemed a bit light, but Brenda still placed the box down on the living room table gently. Grabbing some scissors from the kictchen, Brenda stabbed the box and tore through the brown tape that previously sealed it closed. Once the box was completely free from the tape, Brenda set the scissors down and quickly dove into the box, pulling the flaps up and staring at the contents inside.

A camera, an adaptor or charger, and a small piece of paper were the only contents in the medium-sized box. The piece of paper was ignored and Brenda's eyes stared at the prestine features of the camera. With slightly shaking hands, Brenda picked the camera up in order to get a better look at it. It was a Nikon D3100, an older model, but still worthy type of camera in Brenda's eyes. Her lanky fingers traced over the huge lens as she experience a strange feeling of power crept over her body. Holding the camera in her hands brought back both good and bad memories, but it all mixed together to create one euphoric, yet silent sensation in Brenda. Brenda cautiously turned to her old, broken camera that sat quietly on a shelf, collecting dust. She took a second to stare at the old, smashed camera until she turned to the new camera that sat anxiously in her hand.

A laugh of both disbelief and happiness slipped from Brenda's lips and she placed the camera carefully down onto table. She reached back into the box and pulled out the small piece of paper.

_Turn the camera on and watch the video._

Brenda stared at the message for another moment before finally complying to the orders. _'That handwriting looks familiar.'_

Brenda took a seat and turned the Nikon D3100 on. A second after the button was pressed, the camera screen flashed bright white, and a menu screen appeared displaying several options. One option was labeled "Videos" and Brenda pressed it with a delicate finger. The screen shifted and Brenda saw that there was one video already set in there. Brenda pressed onto the video and the screen turned black for a second, and then the image of a bathroom was shown on the screen. However, Brenda's attention was completely savaged when Brionna's face appeared on the tiny screen. Brenda grabbed the screen and her brown eyes widened at her sister, the light of the screen reflecting on her eyes.

In the video, Brionna let out a, soft pitiful laugh and stared at Brenda through the screen.

_"Brenda. It's me, your big sis. I, uh...*sucks teeth*...got things to tell you. First off...I love you. Um...I say that because...I have a VERY strong feeling that...my life is in danger. Brenda, I...I heard something that I wasn't suppose to here. Something bad, and one of my friends is in grave danger. Um...*sniffles*...the reason why...why I'm making you this video is because I want _you _to get this out there. On this, uh camera, there are some pictures of my partner's files that explain details of his mission with this man named General Shepherd. Remember that name, Brenda. Shepherd. I got a feeling you will be hearing alot about him from now on."_

Brenda continued to watch the camera screen, a single tear falling from her left eye.

_"So, yeah. Oh, by the way, this camera is a little gift for you from me. It's for taking care of...of Jojo. Brenda...*sniffles*...my baby. I'm...I'm not gonna be seeing my baby. Atleast *sniffles more*, not as of now. But...I just want to tell you. If I do die...take care of Joanne. Heh, shit. I'm probably dead already by the time you hear this video. But yeah..."_

_"I hope you noticed that small piece of paper in the box. There's a number on it. It's an apartment number. Heh, yeah, it's actually in your apartment complex. There's this guy named Blix. Take this camera to him and show him this video and the pictures. Blix knows people, and he can get this info out better than I can, but it's all up to you, Brenda."_

There was a pause, and soon enough, Brionna's eyes had released tears. These tears were countered by her younger sister's own tears.

_"Be careful, Brenda. Tell Joanne that I love her...and that Mommy is sorry."_

After a few seconds of shuffling, the video had shut off, and Brenda was left holding the camera in her hands as numerous tears quickly dropped from her eyes and smacked onto the wooden table. She was upset, worried, but most of all, confused. Brenda did not know why Brionna would entrust her with such a serious task, but there was a sense of duty in Brenda that had suddenly awaken, and Brenda knew that she had to get this done. The likelihood of Brionna's death swam around in her head, along with the sudden responsibilty of Joanne that would be bestowed upon her if Brionna's death was confirmed. Brenda could not even begin to image the grieving expressed by her mother, father, and brother if they found out that Brionna Elizabeth Campbell was dead over some government secret. Joanne would be left heartbroken and empty, Brenda thought. Joanne's father was already an absent figure; a dead mother would do absolutely no good to the poor child's pysche. However, the saddest point in the situation was not the possibilities of Brenda and the others, but it was the ignorance that Brenda obliviously demonstrated to it all, as Brenda's worst thoughts had already came to life.

Brenda wiped away her tears with a nervous, shaky hand and she pressed the screen again to get the menu again. She scanned the screen and located the pictures. She clicked on the tab and saw that there were 7 pictures in the camera. Brenda pressed on the first photo and scanned over the text. Brenda saw terminology that she did not quite understand, pictures of a Caucasian male, and specific blocks of texts that were marked and circled in red marker.

"What's that?" a curious voice asked.

Brenda turned and saw Joanne staring up at her, the child's eyes filled with innocence and a certain shine that Brenda had instantly noticed for some reason.

Despite Brenda's highly emotional state, the distressed woman managed to force out a smile for Joanne. She raised herself from the chair and stooped down to Joanne's level, planting a gentle, yet shaking hand on the girl's head. Joanne slightly grimaced at the sight of her aunt; pink, saggy eyes and a slightly sticky face.

"Jojo. I'm taking you over to the neighbor's apartment. I've got to...run a few errands." Brenda said.

"Can't I go with you?" Joanne asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

Joanne was starting to get on Brenda's nerves. "...Joanne, please. Just do what I say."

"I don't wanna be over that lady's house. I wanna-"

"JUST DO WHAT I SAY!" Brenda shouted.

Joanne jumped back a bit and her face twisted with fear and shock. Brenda herself was shocked by her own tone of voice, and she gave Joanne an apologetic look. Brenda's lips parted to say an apology, but Joanne walked away before Brenda could get one word out of her mouth.

Brenda sighed and stood up. Great. She already felt distressed about her new troublesome situation; Brenda did not need Joanne's silent treatment added to it.

* * *

><p>It was reaching around 11AM when Brenda completely summed up the courage to walked over to Blix's apartment. Joanne did very well indeed give Benda the silent treatment after her outbursts at her, and Joanne gave her aunt a deep stare before entering her neighbor's apartment. Brenda took that stare and took it in stride. She deserved it, and Brenda felt like there would be more of those stares when everything that was going on was finally laid out on the table.<p>

With the box in her trembling hands, Brenda stood infront of Blix's apartment door, staring at the apartment number that was engraved onto the door. Brenda continued to count to herself, promising herself to knock on Blix's door when she reached 10. The number 9 constantly repeated itself.

"Come on, Brenda. Pull it together. Brionna said that this guy can help..." Brenda told herself aloud. "He's a friend of hers. Brionna knows nice people...what could go wrong?"

There were several scenarios in Brenda's head that detailed the possibilites of something going wrong, but Brenda forced herself not to let that overpower her. She carefully took one hand off of the box and balled it into a fist, and prepared to knock at the door. As if the door itself knew that Brenda was there, it swung open with a loud creak, and Brenda stared at the sight that was on the other side.

The door was opened by a harsh looking, bald man with two scars on his face; one big horizontal scar stretching over his left eye, and a smaller scar slashing a corner of his mouth. He was dressed entirely in black, and his green eyes stared Brenda down, breaking the woman down with every passing second. Behind him, however, was truly a gruesome sight. Behind the scarred man were 3 other figures. Two of those figures were masked, and appeared to be in the same attire as the man at the door. The third male was, unlike the other 4, dressed in civilian clothing and tied to a chair. Brenda could not get a good look at the man's appearance, as the man's own blood dripped and leaked from the openings of his head. Though it was a reluctant assumption, Brenda assumed the bloody man was Brionna's friend, Blix.

Brenda's eyes shot to one of the men in the back when he shouted something and pointed at her. The man at the door reacted instantly, wrapping his huge, gloved hands around Brenda's arms and throwing her inside, closing the door behind him. Brenda landed on the apartment floor with a loud 'thud', the box scurrying away from Brenda and out of her reach. The scarred man stepped over Brenda and reached for the box, but an unrecognizable feeling of boldness rushed in Brenda and she she grabbed the man's feet, an awkward attempt to prevent him from grabbing the box. One of the masked man moved up to handle Brenda, but the scarred man beat him to it, turning around and kicking the Black woman hard in her face.

Brenda immediately released her grasp and she cried out in pain, rolling over and holding onto her face as if that were to ease the pain. The taste from the scarred man's boot was fresh in Brenda's mouth, along with the taste of her own blood. She spat out a bit of it and she turned around to see that the scarred man had already freed the box from the tape Brenda had placed on it and had taken out the camera. The masked men and the scarred man looked rather confused.

"What the hell? A camera?" the scarred man asked himself, his gruff, scratchy voice ringing in Brenda's ears.

"Is that it?" one of the masked men asked.

"Shepherd didn't really specify."

Brenda twitched at the man's sentence. _'Remember that name, Brenda. Shepherd.' _

Brenda grunted and began to crawl to the scarred man. Her blood painted her teeth red as she gritted. _'I got a feeling you will be hearing alot about him from now on.'_

Not a word, but a sound had eased between Brenda's teeth, and one of the masked men grabbed a handful of her hair and stood her up to her feet. "So what do we do with her?" the man asked.

A droplet of blood fell from the corner as the sound of Brionna's video rang through her ears again. The scarred man turned to the video, and he grinned at what he saw. Anger swelled inside of Brenda, but she could only stand there and watch him grin like a mad man. After a few more seconds, the scarred man paused the video. The scarred man turned to Brenda, his grin almost cartoonish.

"Well, isn't this your lucky day." he said.

He turned to the masked man who still stood by Blix, who had been surprisingly quiet throughout this entire ordeal. A nod of the scarred man's head, and the masked man revealed a pistol from behind his back. It was long and black, with a silencer attached to it. At the sight of the gun, Blix started to tremble and made a useless attempt to try to get away. He shook his head in defiance, a few drops of blood splattering off of his head and onto the rug. The armed man grabbed Blix's face to keep it still and pressed the tip of the barrel against the man's temple.

Brenda did not want to watch this murder, but her eyes did not want to close. She could only watch as Blix desperately pleaded for his life, his pleas only sounding like slurred words or made up vocabulary. He looked and squirmed like a bloody pig, his squeals not too far away from sounding like the respective animal. Another few seconds of Blix's quealing went by, and he was suddenly silenced with the pull of the trigger. Brenda stood motionless as blood rushed out of the other side of his head and splattered onto the carpet and nearby furniture. Despite the shock, it wasn't surreal to Brenda. Her days of a conflict photographer exposed her to many acts of violence and undeserved deaths. She would snap pictures of the aftermath of the consequences of war, the people that were affected by the war, the places that were destroyed and stripped away of their orginality by the war. However, there always came a time when Brenda would see some of the events firsthand, and it was the cries of pain and assistance that would roam in Brenda's ears and haunt her as punishment for not helping.

As for Blix, Brenda really couldn't help him. She wanted to, but Brenda knew that there was literally nothing she could do for him without losing her life as well. Selfish as it may be, Brenda did not really plan to die anytime soon. Not for herself, and not for Joanne. Brionna was enough.

"Let's go." the scarred man said, placing the camera back into the box.

"We aren't gonna kill her?" one of the masked men asked, turning to glare at Brenda.

The scarred man shook his head and gave Brenda the same grin from before. "If she has info like this on her, maybe we can beat some more stuff out of here." The word "beat" made Brenda cringe. "But not here." the scarred man added.

The masked man yanked Brenda's hair and pulled her towards the door, placing his free hand on her mouth to muffle in screams Brenda might express. His hand pushed Brenda's blood back into her mouth, making her gag slightly. The masked man opened the door and prepare to sprint out, only to be stopped by a small figure looking up to him.

Brenda's eyes widened, her tears sliding down and hitting the masked man's gloved hand. _'Joanne...what the hell?' _

Joanne looked up at the man and Brenda, but mostly her aunt, as the blood on Brenda's face made the small child step back a bit and examine her. "Aunt..."

"Move, kid." the masked man growled, and he pressed a heavy boot against Joanne and pushed her down.

Brenda snapped. She began to struggle and try to free herself from the man's grasp. If she would have gotten free, she didn't know what she would do afterwards. Hit him, maybe. Yes. Hit him as hard as she could...and then get shot in the face right infront of her niece.

The masked man let out a laugh and smashed Brenda's face hard into the wall. Joanne screamed and grabbed the man's pant leg, hitting him with her teddy bear and yelling the meanest things that a 4-year-old could think of. The masked man turned around to deal with Joanne once more, but the scarred man reached her first. He picked her up by her dress and dropped her on the concrete from a relatively good distance. By this time, the masked men were already down to ground level, trying to push Brenda into the trunk of their car. Joanne was quickly on her feet, chasing after the scarred man. She sprinted as fast as her little legs could take her and she was soon chasing the scarred man down.

Hearing the pitter-patter of sandals hitting the concrete, the scarred man turned around and swung his heavy hand, hitting Joanne in the face and bringing her down to the ground. The collision of his hand and Joanne's face knocked the small child, an act that Brenda witness as she stuffed into the trunk.

"Joanne!" Brenda cried. "Fucking bastards! Who treats a little girl like that?" she shouted, blood shooting out of her mouth as she yelled.

Brenda tried to get out of the trunk, but was pushed back by the force of Joanne's unconcious body being thrown into the trunk next to her. Joanne's teddy bear was surprisingly thrown in as well, hitting Brenda in her aching face. Brenda wrapped an arm around Joanne and looked up at the man, a look of hatred in her eyes.

However, the look of hatred suddenly started to melt away, and a powerful feeling of disbelief overwhelmed her. The world had come to an erput stop as Brenda's eyes lock on the pitiful expression of her sister, Brionna. Brenda had the urge to say something, but the sudden appearance of her sister looking down on her froze her entire body. Her wardrobe was different from when Brenda last saw her, but it looked rather casual and different from the men that were also above her and Joanne. It had to be a hallucination, Brenda thought. Those men hit hurt way too hard, and she was now seeing things. Like her sister, who could possibly be dead.

Yes. Brenda agreed with her theory. She was now seeing the ghost of her sister, Brionna. Tears ran down her cheeks, feeling like acid when they ran across the bloody cuts and bruises on her face.

Brionna shook her head and both of her eyebrows raised. _"It's like deja vu."_

Brenda's eyes widened at her words, but everything turned dark when the scarred man's fist came crashing down on Brenda's face.

* * *

><p>Oh boy. Brenda's starting to see Brionna's ghosts. Insane in the brain.<p>

This chapter was a bit of a pain to write, but I'm finally glad I have it done. I hope you all liked this chapter, and I will get the next one up as soon as I get more ideas. Reviews are, of course, welcomed.

Thank you! :)


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